


Donut

by ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, dean likes donuts, he steals donuts, she steals something else, so does donna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild/pseuds/ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild
Summary: Donna's revenge for Dean stealing the last jelly donut.





	Donut

"Excuse me, Mr. Winchester," Donna coos, sinking fingers into Dean's hair. "But I don't believe that donut was for you."

"It didn't have your name on it." his argument is childish, he realizes, but he's one delicious tug of his hair away from not being able to form coherent sentences, much less, mature, rational arguments. "And, how do you know I ate it, anyway?"

"Well, unless you've started wearing clown makeup in your free time..." oh. That would do it. She tightens her grip and tugs his head back. "You've been a bad, bad boy."

"You gonna arrest me, Sheriff?"

Holy. Shit.

Half-lidded eyes watch her. The way she crosses her arms over her chest, how she narrows her eyes, and quirks her mouth into a wicked little grin. She circles him, like a predator stalking prey. He doesn't realize she's stopped until his hair is being pulled - his hips might leave her chair, but no one has to know - and she's mouthing the shell of his ear.

"I would. Taking my last powdered donut is a punishable offense but I think you'd like it, too much." Donna breathes.

Dean shudders, hips stuttering against the hardwood of her dining chair. This woman might be the end of him. "You want to be arrested," the toying continues with that soft voice in his ear. "You like being shown who is in control and if it's me, well, all the better for ya, right?"

He whimpers.

"So, no, not arresting ya," her voice is light, unnervingly so. "But you're going to give me something better than a powdered donut."

She sinks down onto his lap, straddling his waist, and grinding down until she gets what she wants - another pained, desperate whimper. God. He's so hard and it feels so good, nestled up against her, she thinks she might soak right through her shorts.

Donna kisses the powdered sugar and raspberry jelly from his lips, licks into his mouth like she was dying of thirst, and he's a cold drink, and grinds down a little harder at the sweetness. Something about tasting it in tandem with tasting him, makes her want him more.

Dean fixes one hand on her hip and dips the other between her legs, pressing firmly into her clit through her thin shorts and the soaked fabric of her panties. "How's that?"

It's Donna's turn to whimper, now, head dropping to her chest. A curtain of blonde hiding the teeth sunk into her lip and the closed eyes. He rubs hard circles until they get a rhythm, finding the easy undulation of her hips that matches the slow moving pressure on her clit.

"Dean.." barely a breath when his other hand ventures up under her t-shirt to cup her breast, rolling a nipple between his fingers.

"Let it happen, baby." Dean grins, shifting forward to keep her on his lap, but also lavish her neck with attention. "Just let it.." her hips move faster, urging him on. "There's my girl. You like this?"

"Yes!" a sharp yelp.

He moves her shorts and panties aside and shoves two fingers inside of her. "Is this what you wanted, baby?"

Donna can barely breathe a soft, "Yes," because his thumb is flicking her clit.

"Or, do you want something else?" his fingers pause their insistent movement inside of her.

An answering whimper is all it takes to get him moving again and her nipple rolls between two fingers. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders, but he doesn't notice, all he can focus on is Donna, hovering above him, caught in the throes of ecstasy.

"Do it, sweetheart." Dean growls a rough encouragement. "Do it."

A sharp yell of his name and she's clenching and trembling around his hand, shuddering through her orgasm.

Forget powdered donuts.

She'd rather have Dean for breakfast. 


End file.
